Marry The Night
by TeenWriterKimba
Summary: The night before the barricades arise, Enjolras stumbles upon an unavoidable distraction. He knows nothing good will come of it, but he cannot help but be drawn into the night. Eponine/Enjolras.
1. Finding Her

Okay, I think I can officially say now that Enjolras and Éponine is my new obsession XD I usually hate to post a story that isn't completely finished but I know exactly where I'm going with this one so I'm going to make an exception. I don't own Les Miserables, or pretty much anything else. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Finding Her

It was a warm and lovely night. Just the perfect sort of night for walking and thinking, which he did often as of late. His friends had started to say he was smitten with his ideals, his thoughts, his books. Maybe he was. It wasn't like he was very well smitten with anyone or anything else. And besides, he was leading a revolution of epic proportions. This revolution would completely revitalize the Parisian justice system. This was the most important thing that he and his friends had done in their young lives. It quite likely would be the only important thing when all was said and done. He most certainly didn't plan to live to see the end. Better, he had decided, to sacrifice himself to the cause, to go down a martyr. He would be better remembered that way than as a disillusioned former revolution leader whose future life experiences would not compare to this one blaze of glory.

It was better to live in a world of ideals. Logic should dictate all, not emotion. He had lived his life by that mantra for as long as he could remember. Except, recently, he had been troubled by a new person in his life with an entirely new outlook. Éponine. She was not in his life, per se, but she hovered on the edges, clinging on Marius' every word. And that was what troubled him. Surely that was not a satisfying way to live? She let emotion dictate all of her choices, bend her to its every whim. She would do anything Marius asked her and for no logical reason. This hopelessly romantic beggar girl piqued his interest to no end.

He did not, however, consider the girl on this night. His mind could think of nothing but the battle to come. If anything, the girl would be a welcome distraction, but even his newest question to puzzle out could not dissuade him from the matter that had him focused tonight. He doubted anything could take away his focus, not from anything so important to his destiny as well as Paris'. There was so much to plan before the night was out.

So lost in thought was he that he almost tripped over a small bundle curled up on the pavement. He would have assumed it a dropped pile of laundry had it not been letting out a low keening sound. A wounded animal, perhaps? He could not help his curiosity, and paused in his walk to examine it. He reached out his hand to touch it and it jerked back abruptly, slamming back against the wall in its haste to get away. A face then, with wild hair surrounding it like a halo. A face that he was all too familiar with.

"Éponine…are you all right?" he asked. He winced at the stupidity of his question. Of course she wasn't all right. She was curled up in a ball of sorrow on the streets of Paris. She was about as far from fine as anyone could get.

The glare she gave him told him that her thoughts were exactly the same. "I'm sorry," he said. "Old habits. What's happened?" Her glare disappeared, to be replaced with a look of extreme pain and sorrow.

"Marius," she croaked. Of course. There was hardly need to explain. It was always about Marius. "I couldn't stand the thought that he would die and never know…I just had to tell him how I…felt…so stupid, really…he only has eyes for her…but I thought, maybe, if he knew…foolish little girl…'Cosette is my one true love. You are a dear friend, but nothing more. I do hope you can accept this and move on. You deserve happiness, but I am not the one to give it to you…'" Her head slammed back against the wall, pure agony written all over her small face.

For one of the first times in his life, Enjolras was at a loss. He was not equipped to deal with a woman grieving for a recently lost love. He was not equipped to dealing with Éponine and all of her emotional lack of logic period. All his life he had lived in his books. Why now, on the night before all of his ideals were to be realized, had fate decided to drop this most unwelcome distraction into his lap?

She had started keening again, and even more worrying, she was banging her head quite frequently against the wall behind her. He began to fear that she would bring much greater injury to herself tonight if left alone. She was clearly one to very much act upon her emotions, and he had a feeling they would not lead her to anything good after such a blow.

He sighed as he gazed at her distressed and crumpled form. Despite the fact that he could already feel a headache coming on, he could think of no other solution. When she went to bang her head back against the wall once again, he slipped his hand behind it, softening the blow as delicately as he could. Her eyes shot open, bloodshot and fierce. But her oft seen naïve curiosity was present once more. Whatever ledge she was attempting to throw herself over, he would bring her back. It was the least he could do for a girl who had lived such a tragic life.

"What are you doing?" she asked between hitched breaths, trying to quiet her sobs. "I am nothing to you."

"You may be nothing particular to me, but you are someone. You are not a faceless beggar. None of you are. I could not claim to fight for the freedom of all and then turn aside when a real person needed my assistance," he said kindly, trying not to allow his fierce passion to sneak into his words. He was not used to showing compassion, and especially not to a little street girl whom he barely knew.

Her next words though, made him glad that he had at least tried. Her eyes softened immensely after he finished speaking. In fact, her entire posture seemed to relax, at least the tiniest bit. "Monsieur, I do not deserve such kindness, but I thank you all the same," she said quietly. "I will be alright, I am certain. I have gotten through harder times on my own before. This time will be no different."

He could not help but be moved by this sad girl's attempt at bravery. Someone so young should not have to be strong all the time. "Please, mademoiselle, allow me to offer some assistance. I know I cannot do much for you but I will do all I can to at least make you comfortable while you deal with this grief," he said boldly. "And you may call me Enjolras. I don't much believe in formalities among friends." He offered her his hand. Smiling weakly, she accepted his offer, although she stumbled against him almost as soon as she got her feet under her.

"Enjolras…" she said softly. He felt an odd shiver up his spine. It was not often a girl…woman said his name, and he was certain that no one had ever said it like her. Her voice was rather sultry, without even trying to be so. "Thank you for your offer, but I cannot accept. I would never have the means to pay you back for such kindness. Unless of course…we could work out an arrangement…" She trailed off, biting her lip in a manner he was sure was meant to be seductive, but in the moment just looked sad. Her small hands moved slowly down his chest for a moment before he snatched them up with his own.

"Éponine," he said rather sternly. "You must understand, I am not offering to help you so that you may be in my debt. I would never take advantage of anyone in such a manner. There are no conditions to this offer. Consider it a gift if you will. I want to help you." She looked a little ashamed of her behavior then, but there was still a great dullness in her eyes that was beginning to scare him.

"How…how do I know I can trust your word?" she asked quietly. He could tell she was considering his offer with great care. He was sure it was not often that she ran into such kindness on the street, and it would certainly seem suspicious after a lifetime of being overlooked by fate.

"My word is all I have. I would not dare besmirch it by lying to anyone, especially one I count as a friend. I assure you, I speak with utter sincerity," he said, hoping that his kind tone was enough to make her believe him. After a few agonizing moments of silence, where he feared she would break away and run off as was her wont, she nodded lightly, sagging against him even more if that was possible. He realized then that the only thing holding her up was his hold on her wrists, and without much consideration he scooped her up in his arms. She barely weighed more than a sack of flour. This frightened him greatly.

"Hey! Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked harshly, struggling a little in his arms.

"I'm helping you," he answered gruffly, turning and striding off in the direction of the café. The owner owed him more than a few favors for bringing in so much business, and he was sure he wouldn't mind if he brought the girl there. "Whether you like it or not." She grumbled some words he was certain were not very polite, and certainly not fit for such a noble savior, but he also noticed that she shifted her arms to his neck to hold on better.

Whether he wanted to or not, he had taken on a little desperate beggar girl for the night. This was certainly not how he had pictured this night unfolding when he had first set out for his walk.


	2. Washing Her

Thank you to everyone who added my story to their alert and favorite lists. It means so much to know that people enjoy my work. And thanks especially to my one lovely reviewer, who gave me the boost to get this chapter posted. This is the last one I have written in advance, so I'm gonna need all the boosts I can get to write the next *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. I own nothing as always. Enjoy!

Washing Her

He finally set his small burden down when they reached the cramped bathroom of the inn. It wasn't much to write home about, just as the rest of the inn, although it was upscale compared to slums he had seen. Just a small, squat toilet, a dirty sink and a narrow bathtub. It would do. He started the taps. They sputtered out a little rust before finally assenting to work, pouring out blissfully lukewarm water. He looked at the girl now huddled in ball in the middle of the floor. If possible, her face looked even more red and tear-streaked. They had passed Marius sitting at a table in the café on the way upstairs. He had not noticed them, despite her soft cry at the sight of him. She would not look at him now.

"Eponine," he said softly, gently, as if to a wild animal. She whimpered quietly. "You will feel better after a warm bath, I promise. I would bet it has been months, if not years since you've had one." The look she gave him would have driven a lesser man to tears. He held up his hands in apology. "I meant no ill will. I told you before, I speak with dearest sincerity." She sat up then, wiping her running, red nose with a sleeve of her trench coat.

"Why?" she asked harshly. "What do you care for a dirty street urchin? What am I to you? A charity case? A symbol of your precious revolution? Someone to take advantage of in her vulnerability?" She spat the last few words. He was taken aback by the sheer venom in her voice. He could not believe that she would think such things of him, especially since he had so recently quite possibly saved her from herself on the street.

"No," he answered, more harshly then he intended. "You are none of those things. You are me. Or what I once was." This piqued her interest, and the venom in her eyes faded instantaneously.

"What do you mean? You are a rich college student, just like Marius. How could you ever be like me?" she asked, suspiciously.

He sighed. This was not something he had intended to share on this night, when he should be focusing on the battle to come. "It may seem unbelievable, but the reason that I am helping you tonight, the reason that I am starting this goddamned revolution is that I am from the gutters just like you, and I remember only too well what it is to go months without a bath and weeks without a full belly. The scum that rules this city cannot be allowed to keep ruining lives like it has been." He didn't notice that he was sliding down the wall until he touched the floor. He had forgotten how much remembering hurt. This was not what he needed tonight.

When he opened his eyes again, she was much closer than he had remembered her being. Her hand was on his face, wiping away a wetness he also did not remember. It appeared that remembering was even more painful than he had thought. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I did not mean to stir bad memories in one who has been so kind to me tonight."

He shook his head, removing her hand but keeping it in his. "You could not have known," he said simply. The curiosity in her bright, blue eyes was clear. There was no reason not to tell her. If anyone could be trusted with the knowledge it would be her, someone who had been there. Perhaps it would be less painful if he shared the burden of his past with another. He nodded his assent to the question in her eyes. "Bath, then story."

She appeared to hesitate for only a moment before speaking. "Stay with me," she said, near whisper. He could not be certain, but he felt sure that his face turned redder than a cherry and he dropped her hand like it was made of hot metal.

"E-eponine," he said, almost stuttering in his embarrassment. "I told you before, I do not mean to take advantage of you. It isn't anything against you, but you must understand, I have only honorable intentions-" She held up her hand to stop him, a laugh barely passing her lips. He considered it was the first time he had seen her smile this evening, possibly ever. Despite his terrible embarrassment, he felt glad that he could bring her dark life some manner of joy.

"I only meant, Enjolras, that you might sit with me while I bathe. Don't worry, I know better than to be make an attempt at compromising such an upstanding citizen's honor again," she said with a wry twist of her mouth. She pointed her little hand to the left. "Now go face the corner, if you don't mind. Girl's gotta protect her modesty when she can get it." She smirked at him as she stood up, stepping back so he could stand as well. He stood shakily, following her directions as he stepped to the corner.

She laughed lightly as she turned off the taps. "You almost look like a little boy caught with his hands on something 'wot didn't belong to him," she mumbled. He smiled at her comment, but it slipped off his face as he heard a rustling behind him, followed by the sound of clothing hitting the floor. The image that flashed uninhibited across his mind brought another blush creeping up his cheeks. No, this was certainly not at all the way he had imagined this night unfolding.

A light splashing met his ears, followed by a satisfied sigh, almost moan, of contentment. He tried his hardest not to wonder if she might sound the same when she was…

"Enjolras?" she questioned, startling him out of his most disturbing thoughts. "You may turn around now." He only hesitated a moment before turning around, banishing his perverted thoughts to the very back of his mind. What he saw caused his breath to catch all over again. The dirt had dissolved from her face, leaving a beautiful, albeit terribly thin, young woman behind. Her hair was slicked back from her face, the steam rising from the tub making it curl in little ringlets around her face. As she breathed in and out contentedly, her chest rose slightly, peaking at and tempting him with each intake. He tried his hardest not to stare. He was already beginning to regret this decision.

"Come sit," she breathed, patting the side of the tub before allowing her head to loll back, bringing her chest dangerously close to the surface. He shook himself visibly, moving quickly to sit with his back against the tub. He could not allow himself to fall into such temptation, no matter how inadvertent on her part. "Are you ready?" Her voice was so breathy that his imagination could not help but fly off in all directions.

He swallowed hard, trying to ground himself. "I'm waiting…" she whispered. Dear god, she was not making this easy. The story. Right. That was all she wanted, all that she was referring to. Right. Focus. How did she make something so simple so difficult?

He took one more deep breath. It only took a moment of musing on the long and painful story before his former distraction made itself scarce. "I was born in a small town outside of Paris, Montmorency. It wasn't much, but it was home. My mother died giving birth to me, and I'm told my father died of grief shortly after. All I have left of them is their name, passed to me, Enjolras. I do not even know what name they chose for me," he spoke with a quiet intensity that surprised even himself. "In any case, an old widow neighbor, Angeline, agreed to take me in. She was good to me. She did not have much, but she shared what little she had with me. She's the only mother I've ever really known. She died when I was seven." The room was quiet for a moment as his words sunk in.

"I…I'm sorry for your losses," Eponine whispered, surprising him. He had nearly forgotten she was there. It had been so long since he had thought about these things.

"Think nothing of it. I did not know my parents. It barely feels as though they were actually mine. And as for Ange…well, that is all in the past now. No use longing for what can never be again," he said sadly. "I'm sure you have known loss as well."

"Everyone has, at one time or another," she said simply. "What happened next?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, dreading the portions of the story to come. "She did not have much money, as I have said. I spent most of what was left on her burial. I was too young to find work anywhere, and it wasn't long before the landlord kicked me out of my only childhood home. I managed to bounce around between various neighbors whom Angeline had known and helped for about a year before everyone's good nature ran out. I wasn't exactly an easy child. I lived on the streets of my town for a short time before the police chased me out for good. I haven't been back since."

"I wandered until I finally found my way to Paris. I don't know how long I lived as a street urchin, doing what I had to do to survive. As luck would have it, one night I fell asleep on the steps of a large townhouse in the heart of Paris. When the head of household came down the next morning to chase me off, he noticed that I was strikingly similar to him in appearance. After taking me inside and grilling me about my origins, we discovered that I was the son of his disgraced sister, making him my uncle. He couldn't help but feel some sort of family obligation towards me, and reluctantly took me in as his ward."

From then on I was no longer my own person, but rather forced into a mold of exactly what he wanted me to be. The only choice I have had since is what study to focus on in school. I picked law under the guise of being 'just like him', as if I would ever want to be like that corrupt, money-grubbing bastard. Really I wanted to try to make a change in the unfair system I had lived under as a child. My studies soon made me realize that such change would be impossible through traditional means, and so I began to speak of revolution to anyone who would listen. I found a small band of like-minded individuals, and here we are today. Getting ready to take down the world tomorrow in hopes that we may be the change we wish to see in this world." He let out a long breath as he finally finished his epic tale.

Despite his original reluctance to tell his story, he felt oddly relieved now. He had always heard that sharing burdens made them lighter, but he had never truly believed in such a cliché until now. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a light, wet hand touched his shoulder. He turned, only to find her bright eyes staring intensely into his. "Thank you for sharing your story with me. You are a true inspiration, Enjolras," she said quietly. His breath caught again, and the words fell like rain.

"It is you who is the inspiration. You and all the brave people who still fight for your lives and your right to be free," he near to whispered. He reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, "Tomorrow I will be fighting for you, so that your future, all of our futures, may be better and brighter." In the peaceful silence that followed, he felt as though she was pulling him into the depths of her eyes, and that he would be more than willing to fall.

"I think…I've spent enough time in the bath for one night," she said, breaking their moment. He felt both relieved and disappointed as his hand slid from her face. He felt that anything could have happened in that moment.

*I know Enjolras' story is a bit of a twist/OOC on the original story, but I've often found that people's passions stem from difficulties they faced in the past. Made sense to me, anyway. Reviews? Maybe?


	3. Putting Her to Bed

Thank you to everyone who added my story to their alert and favorite lists and especially to those who reviewed. You guys have truly inspired me to keep plucking with this story. I know it's been awhile since I posted but I hope you find this chapter worth the wait ;) Once again, I have no more written in advanced, but I do plan to write more, and I could use some serious encouragement *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. I own nothing as always. Enjoy!

Putting Her to Bed

Once she wrapped her trench coat around her like a towel, the two ventured out of their unexpected refuge to find her some shelter for the night. Éponine had placed her little hand in his as they left the bathroom, and Enjolras found himself uncomfortably aware of their connection as he led her through the upper floor towards his usual room. He was so close, _so close_ to having her safe and sound for the night when Marius rounded the corner. It had to be him. It just had to be.

"Enjolras, I… Éponine. What are you doing back here? I thought I told you-" Marius said, his voice gentle yet stern. Enjolras could feel her tensing up beside him, could imagine the tears already welling in her eyes in preparation for the pain. In an instant he saw red, and for some inexplicable reason he felt the need to defend this girl who, just an hour before, he would not have known from a hole in the wall.

"I brought her back here. I found her huddled in a ball in the streets. I allowed her to clean up and now I am escorting her to a room so that she may rest safely tonight and recover from her suffering. And I suggest that before you go upsetting her once again, that you consider just what _you _have done for her this evening and kindly leave her alone. _You _have done enough damage for one evening," he said strongly, surprised by his brutal reaction to his best friend. But, to be fair, it was very clear to him that Marius was in the wrong on this occasion.

Marius stared back and forth between the two of them for a second, utterly shocked. Then, without word, he snapped his mouth shut and turned on heel to stride back down the hall. As soon as he was gone, Enjolras heard, rather than felt, Éponine crumple. He had her in his arms before she hit the ground, but he could do nothing to calm her renewed sobs. They had been _so close_ to the room, too.

When he finally reached the room he placed her down gently on the bed. She promptly rolled as far away from him as possible and covered her face to hide her tears. He sighed to himself. He wanted more than anything to bring her comfort once again, but he had no idea what to say or do. He had no clue how he had managed to calm her down the first time and he was certain he would be unable to replicate it. After a moment of awkward indecision in which he hovered beside the bed, he turned to go. He had expected to find another place to sleep (or, more likely, think and plan) regardless, but he had hoped he would at least be able to leave her comfortable, in any case. It appeared he had failed in that regard.

Just as he reached the doorway, he heard a small voice thick with tears croak, "Wait!" He paused, hand still on the doorknob, whole body tensed with her request. "Will you…lay with me? Just for a little while. I don't think I can bear to be alone right now."

Reluctantly, gently, he turned back around and sat down next to her. This felt like a mistake and he knew it. But he had never before in his life felt he was making such drastic one, and it might very well be his last chance to do it. He felt his emotions spinning out of control. "I…I will stay, if it means so much to you," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at her rumpled figure. The trench coat she wore like a robe had fallen open slightly and the moonlight from the window illuminated her face and partially exposed chest beautifully. She looked like an angel of the night. He did not understand the way she made him feel.

Her face lit up like someone had given her a much sought after present. "Thank you," she rasped, her voice still rough from tears. She had done too much crying tonight. He would not be the reason for her doing more. As carefully as he could, without disturbing and definitely without touching her in the slightest, he maneuvered himself until he could lie comfortably beside her. He would never have expected that his first time lying beside a woman would come in such a manner.

Her eyes fluttered shut once he settled, and he watched as her small chest quivered with each intake of breath. She was quiet for several minutes, long enough that he thought she might have drifted off to slumber and he could escape to do some last minute planning or thinking or anything other than the odd circumstances he had found himself in tonight. Just as he was considering how best to prevent disturbing her, however, she spoke without looking at him.

"Why did fate choose him? Why did it have to be foolish, oblivious _him_ that I ran into in the market that day?" she asked, possibly speaking more to herself than to him. He blinked, uncertain how to respond. He found her statement quite unexpected. He had been certain from his observations that Eponine trusted her heart blindly and unshakably. It would take awful, awful circumstances to make her doubt it. What had Marius done to this poor girl?

He didn't think before he spoke. "They say fate works in mysterious ways. I've never put much stock in that though. I think we make our own fate. I know you would never choose such heartbreak, but I do think that, at one point or another, you chose Marius, for better or for worse," he said, too fast to pull the words back. He had not meant to sound harsh or critical. It was just the way he viewed the world. But he knew very well she would take it the wrong way.

She looked at him then, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. But there was no heat in her gaze. Rather, there was something else, something he could not pin point. "I don't think so," she said. "I think, that if I had known what would come after, and maybe even if I didn't, if I had really had the choice, I would have chosen you." Her gaze did not waver; she showed no signs of shyness or jest. He could not speak. There were no words. Who was this girl, and how had she escaped his keen observational eye for so long?

Perhaps the truth was that she hadn't. Perhaps he had been noticing her all along as well. "Eponine…I don't…" he mumbled, trying to find the words to express the jumble that he was feeling. This volatile, wild girl who he had barely known before this night had rendered him, a talented and flexible speaker, utterly tongue-tied. What had happened to his quiet night of reflection before the battle?

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me I'm nothing to you, and that the revolution is your only love. I know. And Marius is my only love, so the feeling is mutual. But mightn't it be nice to pretend? Just for the night? Who knows what will come tomorrow. Tonight may be all I, you, we have," she said, her eyes never leaving his. He was mesmerized.

"I…I haven't pretended since I was a child," he said, having no idea what else he could say.

"I pretend all the time. I could help you remember," she said, quietly, a tremor sneaking into her voice. He realized then that she was just as uncertain and confused as he was. Neither of them had expected or planned for this night. She may have put on a brave, bold face, but underneath she was shaking like a leaf. She was alone.

So was he. Despite all his talk of France being his mistress, he certainly felt the ache of loneliness from time to time. Friendly companionship would only get a man so far. She was offering him something to cling to, on this darkest of nights before the storm. And yet she was the one who probably needed the anchor far more than he. Perhaps they could be each other's everything, just for the night.

"All right then. How did I meet you?" he said, quiet and breathless. He had never taken such a risk as this, but he could not resist the comfort of humanity any longer.

She smiled then, a soft smile, one that made his heart beat in a manner he had never known before. "I was following my father's gang on a job. You were in the market handing out flyers, trying to get the poor to listen to your speeches, your stirring words. Father told me to nick your pocket change on the way. I crept up beside you to do just that, when you looked at me, at me, not through me, and spoke of revolution and justice and freedom. And I never looked back," she said, putting words together more passionately then he felt he ever had before.

He found himself wondering again just who this girl was, and how he had almost missed the chance to have her in his life, even just for a night. "My heart was yours from that moment on, whether you wanted it or not. I convinced Marius to bring me to the meetings, using my supposed feelings for him as a cover to get closer to you. Did you notice me then?"

His turn. Oh god, how could his dull imagination ever match her wild passion? He had not known love. How could he begin to describe it? "No, I did not, although I knew you would be a true friend and ally to the cause as soon as you spoke to me. You may not have noticed, but the cause tends to cloud my head to anything else most of the time," he said, a wry smile breaking through. It was most certainly true, in any case.

"How did I ever manage to make my way through your defenses, then?" she asked, turning her body to face him more comfortably. Her trench coat slipped a little more, but she did not seem to notice. Curse his baser desires, he couldn't help but notice.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay in the moment. "Simple. The same persistence you give to every matter of the heart. I may appear to be made of marble, but I have my cracks. If anyone had ever shown the same amount of interest in me as you showed…" he trailed off then, uncertain if this fantasy world allowed for mentions of Marius, "others, I'm certain I would been unable and quite possibly also unwilling to ignore your feelings, and the ones I'm sure were secretly growing inside of myself. I would have of course insisted to myself that such feelings were foolish, and would have only asked Marius to bring you back because you were a 'morale boost and ally to the cause'."

"You had secret feelings for me? Surely not. The bold leader of the new French Revolution? The passionate and dedicated speaker who could sway even the most uncommitted low life to his cause? The man who puts his country above all else?" she scoffed. "In no universe could you ever have such feelings for me." Her eyes darted away from his and his face warmed as he realized how long he had been staring at her.

He did not recognize that he had placed his hand upon her face until her eyes snapped back to his, startled. "In what universe could I help but fall in love with you?" he said in a breathless whisper. Her eyes, already bright and shining in the moonlight, appeared to grow larger. "Do you not know yourself at all? You are everything I value in a companion. You are passionate, kind, dedicated, and beautiful, whether you believe it or not. You let nothing stop you when you love. You stand by your own values and those of the people you care about, even when it puts you in danger. I know you better than you think. I…I watched you, sometimes, same as I watch any new member of the Society. But you…you were a puzzle, a curiosity that I just had to figure out. You were no general member or even one I had picked out to be an especially trusted friend and ally. You were simply…yourself and I needed to know more."

An especially charged silence between them for a moment, in which Enjolras was sure he had forgotten how to breathe. He felt engulfed by her mere presence and the weight of his confession. "Enjolras…" she whispered. "Are…are we still pretending?"

He almost laughed at her bluntness but the feeling that was flooding him filled him with anxiety. He was uncertain. He was never uncertain. "I…truly, I don't know," he said, internally scrambling for some explanation for his unexpected words. Had he truly been lying to himself all this time about how much he cared about this girl? There was a long stretch of quiet, where he was sure that any moment she was going to reject him and call him all sorts of foul and perverted names.

And then she spoke. "I came to the meetings some nights even when I knew Marius wouldn't be here. I may seem like a stupid poor urchin, but I know more than most people think. Your words, your passionate speeches, they spoke to me like nothing else. It was like the poetry my mother used to read to me when I was small. How could I not admire a man so dedicated to such a noble cause? You never treated me bad like some of the others or made implications about my profession. Sometimes you'd even smile at me during your talks or from across the café if I happened to catch your eye. It wasn't like Marius, nothing is like Marius, but I would catch my heart fluttering sometimes. I always figured it was simply because you were a handsome and kind man and it was impossible not to notice your intimidating presence. But maybe…maybe there was something more there. Sometimes I used to imagine that Marius walked beside me while I was alone at night. But sometimes…I imagined someone else. Maybe it was you. I don't know," she said rapidly, as if afraid that once she started speaking she would be forced to stop.

He searched her face for signs of insincerity or the tell tale glaze in her eyes when she was speaking of make believes. Neither was present. He felt his heart beat quicken. "I drew you, once or twice. Talking to Marius. Standing against the wall in the back, watching the world. You're a beautiful and fascinating subject. I couldn't resist," he said.

"Wow…me? Really?" she asked in disbelief. Her small hand hesitantly reached up and covered his larger one.

"Of course," he said, unable to help himself from leaning into her touch a little. He cleared his throat quickly in an attempt to gain control of the situation. "So, what happens after we confessed our secret feelings for each other one night by the river? I had offered to walk you home after the meeting and neither of us could help what we felt any longer." Make believe, however close it was to reality, felt somehow safer.

"Well, you'd probably first have to fight off my father for my honor. He'd try to blackmail or coerce you into paying exorbitant amounts of money for the right to 'bed' me, but we'd have none of that. You'd ask him proper if he'd allow you to court me, and when he inevitably denied you, you'd simply spirit me away from that awful life. We wouldn't care," she said, sounding exhilarated by the idea.

"You'd come live with me. In separate beds, of course. I'd give you a far better life than they ever have, that's for certain. You'd never be hungry again," he said, wishing he had offered her something similar before now. Everyone deserved a better life than she had, but it seemed to him especially tragic that she had suffered so.

"Is the separate bed arrangement up for debate? This is my fantasy as well, after all, and we are, in fact, sharing a bed at the present moment," she queried, her free hand gesturing between them and coming within an inch of his chest. He imagined her could feel the heat from her hand even without the contact.

"Perhaps," he answered simply, trying to keep the blush from creeping up to his face. "But I'd like to court you properly first, of course, especially after all of the battle nonsense was over. I'd take you for walks in the park and we'd sneak kisses behind the trees. We'd take meals together, and spend long nights talking and genuinely get to know each other. The boys would laugh and call me a love sick fool, but I'd know they were simply jealous, for none-not even Marius with his 'lovely' Cosette- would have a girl as lovely as mine. I've always known the only woman I could ever love would have an undering of where I had been, someone who knew the streets for exactly what they were. I wouldn't be content to simply have you as my mistress. A girl such as you does not come along often." Her gaze was so intense he thought it might consume him.

"I'll meet your parents, and of course they'll disapprove, but I'll win them over with my unexpected wits and charm," she said, smiling all the while.

"And your beautiful looks and witty manners as well," he answered smartly. Her smile glowed in the moonlight.

"And then we'll be married. And I'll be happier than I ever would have been with Marius," she whispered, shaky hope clutching to each word like a life raft. It wasn't even a thought when his lips touched lightly on hers.

"I will marry you," he whispered back as soon as their kiss was ended. "God-willing, once this blasted revolution is ended and the world is right once more, I will make you my beggar bride and we will be together forever. I am more than sick of this corrupt society's never-ending false light and fake beauty. I am ready to marry the night, and you, my dear, are it in human form."

There were no more words that night, for words were no longer required. Enjolras had said far more than he would have ever thought he would to a girl he had never really noticed, and yet had been noticing all along. Éponine had found a new love, perhaps a better love than she could ever have imagined, even in her wildest daydreams.

Yes, no more words were spoken. But the night was far from over. Hands entwined, bodies entwined, lips on lips, skin on skin. Feelings that Éponine had thought herself incapable of feeling anymore, and yet had always wondered if the right man might bring out. Sensations that Enjolras could never have imagined even in his dizziest daydreams.

As their union was finally, ultimately joined, once, twice, forever, they both thought that this night had certainly not turned out as planned, and they were more than happy with that fact.

Hours later, when Enjolras lay sweaty, satisfied, and more than ready to rest for battle ahead, he found himself with one simple thought about the girl who lay in his arms, her warm, even breath tickling his cheek, closer than he had ever been to anyone.

_Dear God, how can I die now that I have her? _

Review? Pwease?


	4. The Morning After

So it's been…quite a long time. I do apologize. Shows and finals ate me alive and then other muses picked at me but fear not! I have returned…with a rather dark chapter, unfortunately. And, just as a warning, we will not see the light, so to speak, for a very long time. Reviews may make it come quicker though *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*.

Chapter Four-The Morning After

As the light from the sky slowly drew her from her slumber, she had the distinct feeling of safety, warmth, and intense happiness. It was very odd. She wasn't sure if she had ever woken up feeling so light and free. As her eyes opened to the strange room surrounding her, the memories soon began to float back to her. Marius' rejection. Her anguish on the street. Fairly typical for the life of a lovesick street urchin. And then…everything changed. Everything. Every plan, wish, hope, dream she had ever had changed in an instant when she saw his face through her blurry eyes and heard his strong voice and arms calling her back to the light.

She blushed a little as she pieced together just how she had found her way from her sad little street corner to his warm and surprisingly passionate bed. She remembered the sadness of his story, the dark spot of Marius, and the aching loneliness she felt when she thought he was leaving. But then the glorious warmth of his words, pretend or not (_oh, how the line had blurred_), and even more so, his affections. So pleased was she at the memories that she reached out blindly to the other side to stir her newly found lover for a little more of his passion, only to find nothing but cold empty bed. She was not sure if she had ever shot out of bed so quickly.

Her thoughts were so jumbled on top of one another that she could barely finish one before another started. _Enjolras gone have to taken by captured and tortured and gone and gone and never coming back he left should have known nothing but a whore a warm bed night before the end nothing never coming gone find love worthless how dare he do after last and all his fake and his touch and idiot how could she be stupid so nothing left another heart shattered…_

And then everything came to an abruptly grinding halt as her gaze fell on a single sheet of parchment left on the other pillow. As she picked it up to read it, a drawing of a beautiful woman stared back at her from underneath. To her surprise, upon closer inspection, the woman was her.

_Dearest Éponine,_

_ I regret most deeply having to leave you this morning, but there is a war to be lead and I cannot back down now, for the sake of my men and those who follow this silly schoolboy's passionate words. But know that had I absolutely any other option, I would have stayed by your side most faithfully and dutifully as any lover should. You have stirred a passion and affection in me that no noble concept or comrade in arms ever has. I sincerely hope I have not caused you any undue stress with my absence. I swear to you that if I can earn your forgiveness for my sudden departure—and, god-willing, survive the harsh battles to come—I will never leave your bed or heart empty again. _

_I hope you do not mind the portrait. Although it will make me late to rally my men, I could not resist the chance to draw you one last time. You are truly beautiful when you sleep. I hope you will carry it with you as a token of my affections, and most importantly get it and yourself some place safe and far away from this place and the barricade. I know you would much rather be in the thick of things as always, but please do consider the burden that would be taken off of my mind to know you were safe. I will have enough to worry about in the coming hours, I trust. _

_Finally, it is with deepest sincerity that I write the words I long to whisper to you and that we will share in our many days and nights to come: I love you most passionately, sincerely, and devotedly, my sweetest Éponine, my beautiful beggar bride._

_All of my love and faith,_

_Enjolras_

She could not help the tears that fell down her face as she read through his letter. She had never received anything so beautiful and she doubted she ever would again. How in the world had she never noticed this stunning and passionate creature before last night? And what in god's name would she do if she were never able to see him again?

Her musings quickly moved her into action. Warning or no, she had to see him, to speak with him again. She was never one to sit on the sidelines and she would not play safe now. She dressed quickly in her street clothes once more, tucking the letter and drawing into her pocket for safe keeping. And then she was out the back door and into the fray before anyone else in the building even noticed her presence.

* * *

><p>He caught her at the very base of the barricade, long before she had even begun an attempt to scale it.<p>

"Hey little boy, what's this I see? God, Éponine, the things you do," Marius said, his initial confusion at the sight of her clearly turning rapidly to annoyance. She could not believe that she had ever convinced herself of any sort of love for this man. How had he ever even earned a passing glance in comparison to Enjolras?

"I know this is no place for me," she said, angrily. She could not believe she had run into him of all people in the chaos. And anyway, she was no child, and he certainly had no right or claim to where she did and did not go. She could not help her annoyance and added sarcastically, "Still, I would rather be with you."

Her tone appeared to float right over his egotistical head. "Get out before the trouble starts. Get out, 'Ponine! You might get shot," he said, adding a rather nervous looking glance at the surrounding barricade.

The stress of her day and this totally unhelpful conversation allowed hint of her old flirtatious nature to slip in, with an extra dose of annoyed teasing, "I've got you worried, now I have. That shows you like me quite a lot." She shook herself from her troubling old habits like shedding a second skin. "I'm not here to see you, anyway. Where is Enjolras?" She reached for the barricade once again, wanting to get a bird's eye view over the chaos.

Her mind raged and her heart fluttered as he gripped her arms, trying to get through to her. His next words felt like a cold bucket of water over her still somehow hopeful heart, "Look, Éponine, we both know that isn't true. I know you tend to get the two confused, but just because a man acts chivalrous and noble towards you does not mean that he harbors affection for you," he said rather harshly, before letting out a sigh and lowering his tone.

"In any case, I deeply regret everything that I said last night, and everything I've ever said that could have possibly led you on. I know you're here looking for closure, but this is hardly the time or place. Whatever my feelings are for you, you have to know by now that I do care about you and most importantly, I want you safe. So please, for the sake of whatever feelings you once had for me, leave this place and don't come back until the fighting is done." After everything he had done to her, he really still thought this was about him? Her anger reached the boiling point and she wrenched herself out of his grip and began to climb, quicker than before. He lifted her back down, thrashing and complaining, before she made it even halfway up.

"Please, Éponine," he said, his voice the most sincere she had ever heard it. She finally stilled in his grip and he released her. She had never seen his eyes look quite so serious. "There is nothing more you can do here. Enjolras just left to rally the people all over the slums and streets of Paris. The battle will be upon us as soon as he returns. But there is a way that you can help, one that will keep you safe. Really, you are the answer to my prayers."

She barely heard anything after the mention of Enjolras' name. _He's out in the city! I have to find him and convince him to find safety with me before it's too late! _He reached into his pocket then and drew out a small, unmarked sheet of folded parchment. Ah. Apparently Enjolras wasn't the only one writing out his last good-byes. "Please, if you could find it in your heart to do me one last favor, take this letter to Cosette…and pray to God that she's still there."

She simply nodded dumbly, grabbed the parchment and took off, already three steps ahead in planning how she was going to find Enjolras. She allowed herself one last thought to Marius and his fickle affections (_Little he knows…little he cares_) before throwing herself completely and devotedly into her task. The twin letters in her pocket continued to burn a hole in her conscious despite her best efforts. Whatever faults the lark had, she deserved to know what had happened to her lover. And anyway, Rue Plumet might not be a bad place to begin her search…

* * *

><p>She had been searching for hours and there had been no sign of him. She looked in all of the student's usual haunts, but it seemed that everywhere was either deserted or barricaded from the inside. The few people she did come upon were immediately hounded for information on his whereabouts, but most either hadn't seen him or claimed he had come and gone long before. They probably thought she was some kind of government informant. Lousy bunch of cowards. By the time she had circled back around to the barricade, she could hear the occasional lazy firing of guns and the nervous screech from a civilian caught in between. The fight had not yet begun, but it would be soon, and all of the streets backing up to the barricade were solidly filled in.<p>

He had to be in there somewhere. And she still felt somehow compelled to see him safe, just one last time. Even if he yelled at her and cursed her for disobeying him and worrying him further, it would be worth it to know that he lived, at least for the moment. She circled back around to the front of the barricade and slunk into a small side alley, waiting for a break in the action. There was a small opening on the right hand side of the barricade about halfway up, nearly hugging the building. It was probably just meant to be a firing hole, but she had a feeling she might be just small enough to wiggle through. As soon as the rifles quieted once more, she ran, faster than she ever had and jumped as far up as she could, hands and feet scrambling for purchase. Her first landing was fairly clean and she was almost a third of the way up before she heard the voices alerting to her presence. She wasn't sure which side it was coming from and she honestly didn't want to.

She was less than a foot from the hole when she heard the world explode around her. There was so much noise and pain she nearly blacked out and plummeted back down. Her fog-addled mind tried to convince her that the ground below was far cozier than it looked and death would come much quicker there. But he was waiting. Her good arm somehow found strength to pull her up the last foot or so and into the chaos she tumbled, blacking out as she fell.

Strong arms caught her and consciousness snapped back rapidly as her mind hoped and prayed that they were the right ones. But no, not quite, too weak and flexible, eyes not quite the right shade of chocolate brown, dark hair rather than fair…

"Enjolras…please…" she begged, hoping he might understand and summon her love.

But alas, in his final act of obliviousness, he simply shushed her and whispered, "Éponine, what's wrong? I feel there's something wet upon your hair…"

There was more before the blackness, she was sure, but none of it mattered for he was not there to hear it. Some simple words to soothe Marius, who appeared to have finally decided to care. One last touch to his cheek. And, hopefully, a few last words that would make the journey back to their true intended's ears. Then all was black and soft and there was no more pain.

* * *

><p>The light did not come back for a very long time.<p>

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><p>…Review it? Even if you hated it?<p> 


	5. The First to Fall

So I'm officially the worst ever at posting XD I'm sorry this took so long. My summer job and the subsequent semester ate me. But the movie has re-inspired me and I hope all of my loyal followers can forgive me. It was thanks to all of you that I came back to finish at all. You guys are the best!

In any case, this is possibly the longest and darkest chapter of them all, sorry to return on such a sad note. But rest assured, the next chapter (the final chapter!) will fix all the angst and, as a bonus, I already have it written! The end is nigh! This is ridiculously long so I'm gonna stop here. I own not a thing. Review if you like =)

Chapter 5

She Was the First to Fall: Viva Éponine

He was in the café, plotting the first plan of attack when Cofreyac brought him the news. A small boy, a new volunteer, had been shot climbing the barricade. It had begun.

He followed his man out to the small crowd that had formed around the child. The group was deathly silent. Although he hated to see death, he and his men had known this was coming. To be honest, as terrible as it was, it might be useful to rally the men around this innocent's death. It might just be the morale boost they needed to get everything rolling. It wouldn't be long now.

As the group parted for him, the grief he saw mirrored on every face began to set off strange warning signals in his head. Surely the death of some unknown street urchin wouldn't cause his men so much pain? Perhaps they were just sensitive to the idea of death. He had prepared them for this moment, but death was a hard thing to look in the face. As he drew ever nearer, he was struck with the terrifying thought that it might be Gavroche, the little pup of a boy who had always snuck into their meetings. He had told Grantaire to send him away but he wouldn't be surprised if he had snuck back in. Even he would have to admit to some sort of grief if it was the boy. Everyone had been fond of his cocky little attitude.

Finally, he reached the center of the circle. He had but a moment to wonder why Marius was cradling the little boy with so much anguish before the world came crashing down around him. Time slowed to a stand still. There was a roaring in his ears and his vision blurred. Every muscle in his body simultaneously spasmed and then collapsed. He would have thought he had passed out were it not for his total and horrifying awareness of it all.

It was not a little boy in Marius' arms. It was her. It was her and she wasn't breathing and _oh dear god there was so much blood and she was and he couldn't and there would never be his reason his light his passion gone extinguished agonizing torture how dare he take Éponine …._

He heard a voice break the silence. He was surprised when he realized that it was his. "She is the first to fall," he said (How could he sound so calm and unaffected?). "She is the first of us to fall upon this barricade." More was spoken. Vows of vengeance and remembrance. And then they carried her off. And just like that, his life was over.

* * *

><p>Night fell quickly. He heard himself giving orders but inside he was still too destroyed to be present. He was not certain if he would ever be present again. His grief was so strong that he feared if he processed it too much, it would consume him. And he had to live on to fight for her. He would take out as many men as he could if it meant avenging her lost soul. After his men were settled in for one last night filled with wine and women, he found himself wandering back into the café, praying perhaps that he would find her still waiting in the bed they shared mere hours before, and would discover that the whole thing was merely a tragic daydream.<p>

Alas, he found only Marius, wallowing in his sorrows. He sat down across from the man who looked just as broken as he felt. He was not sure if he could stand to be around anyone else. Marius briefly acknowledged him before continuing on in his perpetual misery. Enjolras wondered if it was anywhere near close to his own. After all, Marius still had his lark. She would still be waiting for him when the fighting was done. She was not foolishly brave. But, as well he knew, he could never love a woman who was anything but.

Marius' voice unexpectedly wrenched through the air. "It's all my fault!" he nearly wailed. "I should have known she would come back. I would have done better to tie her up in a closet somewhere than to trust her to her own devices. And to use her to send the message! Of course she would come back with a response. Damn it all, 'Ponine. What did I ever do to deserve your unconditional devotion?"

"Marius…what did she say to you? In her last moments?" he found himself asking. He wasn't sure why it mattered but he felt a compelling need to know. He would have given anything to have been there.

"She…she was confused. She asked for someone…me I think…said she needed to say goodbye. Then she told me not to worry…she talked about rain and flowers…and then…actually her last words were very strange. She said something like, 'Tell him I'm sorry I can't be his beggar wife. Tell him I'll wait for him behind the tree.' I don't know what it means. Perhaps she had some other love none of us knew about," he mused, mulling over these words again, not even noticing the anguish that had fallen over Enjolras' face. Each word Marius had spoken had stabbed at him like a knife. She truly did care. And that made her loss all the worse.

"Marius…she did not come back for you. She came back for me," he said, quietly, more to himself than to Marius. Although, truly, it was only fair that he assuage the other man's unfair share of the guilt. "I was her other love."

At this, Marius' face lost much of the grief, but took on puzzled look. And, if Enjolras wasn't mistaken, just slightly agitated, as well. "You? When the hell did you become the object of her affections?" Ah, jealousy. Enjolras couldn't say he was surprised. He had a feeling Marius had known of Éponine's affections long before she ever confessed them. No matter that he loved his Cosette, it was clear he had always kept Éponine in the back of his mind.

Enjolras couldn't help the slight edge in his voice when he responded. "Last night was the first time we both acknowledged our mutual understanding and feeling, thanks to your inconsiderate treatment of her, but I believe I've been denying my noticing of her for quite some time now. It just never really seemed to matter. She always preferred you," he said, sending a slight glare at his friend.

"You took her to bed, didn't you? There's no other explanation for how she could have changed her tune so fast. Took advantage of a broken girl on the eve of the battle?" Marius accused through gritted teeth. Enjolras found himself seeing red and nearly punched his friend and compatriot in the face.

He only restrained himself when he saw the hurt in Marius' eyes, saw the true reason he was lashing out. He too had loved Éponine, in some small, incomparable way. "How we spent our time together was none of your business. You made that quite clear with the way you treated her," Enjolras bit out. When he saw Marius bow his head with grief once more, he finally let go of his anger all together. They were both aching from her loss. "It hardly matters now. Neither of us will ever be with her again. And the blame is solely mine." Tears of sheer unadulterated grief began to poke as his eyes as he felt the stabbing ache open up in his chest once more. He wondered if it would ever go away.

"Don't blame yourself. It doesn't matter who she loved or for what reasons she came back. She would have come back regardless. She wouldn't be 'Ponine if she hadn't come back," Marius said, his grief evident in his speech. Enjolras found himself agreeing with his aggrieved friend. He wouldn't have loved Éponine so deeply and so suddenly had she not been the type of person to do just that. She was courageous, rash, strong, emotional, and everything he had never really understood until the night previous. And now she was gone because of it.

The two commiserated together in silence for a few more moments before Marius stood up suddenly. "I'm going out to take watch," he said, already making his way to the door. Enjolras stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Marius, you should rest," he commanded, concerned for his friend. He looked nearly as bad as Enjolras felt.

"If I should rest, then everyone else should rest too. We cannot afford to sleep now. The battle has just begun." And with that, Marius wrenched himself from Enjolras and moved quickly out of the café. For a moment, Enjolras stared after him. Clear as day, he could still picture Éponine running through those same doors, smiling at him and the others as she came in for another Society meeting. He saw all his men laughing and joking, felt the camaraderie of their presence. He joined them all in their drinking and carousing, allowing the speeches and planning to be put aside for the moment. And, when they passed each other in the crowd, Éponine reached out for his hand and squeezed, acknowledging their secret love for each other. He reached out to take her in his arms and kiss her, showing the others exactly how he felt about his beggar bride. But then she, and all the others, were gone, and he was alone once again in the café.

He suddenly had the terrible revelation that he would never again relive those seemingly carefree afternoons. And, most painful of all, he would never even see his Éponine again, never get the chance to play out his vision or their pretend musings. She was dead, he was going to die, and so, likely now, was everyone else. He had never felt quite so hopeless.

But then, he felt a light touch on his arms, and his eyes flew open. There she was, a beautiful vision, glowing and beaming at him. Éponine. A ghost, or a vision, it didn't matter. For a moment, she was there. "_Do not give up hope. You are all these men have. You must still be the revolutionary leader I always believed in. Your purpose is larger than you know. Stand strong, and you will not be forgotten." _Her lips didn't move, but he seemed to hear her speak.

"I can't, Éponine. It's not worth it, not without you," he whispered. He wouldn't have believed those words two days before, but love, he was learning, could change many things.

_"Enjolras, I'll always be with you." _Her hand now found its way to his chest, and the warmth eased the dull ache that had not let up since he had seen her lying limply in Marius' arms. And, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. But her voice still lingered to ease the last of his doubts. _"Never forget, my love. Fight on, for me and all my people._"

As all remnants of his vision finally dissipated, he was left with a new determination. Perhaps he was hopeless and could not go on without her. But that didn't mean he was going to go down without a fight and leave his men to fend for themselves. And with that thought in mind, he let the last bit of her memory go, at least for the moment, and headed outside to rally his men for the battle ahead.

* * *

><p>Bullets were zipping past his head. Cannon fire had driven them back, far back, too far back. He was covering the posts of three men, all fallen friends, all lost on the account of him and his foolish cause. There was nothing now but death and agony all around him. All he could do was shoot and try not to think. That was all that was left. To his right, Marius was covering one of the last remaining sniper holds on the barricade. The guard was fast approaching, and there had been word that they were the last remaining resistance. The people had not heard. They had not heard at all.<p>

A cry close at hand. Marius, falling, too hard, too fast, grasping at his leg. It was too much, it was all too much. All of the blood, all on his hands. He had caused this deadly enterprise. He, and he alone, was to blame for all of the death. He could do nothing more for his friends. He had failed. No more ammunition. No more time. No more hope. No more anything. But something red catches his eye. A flag. Their flag.

He sees his chance, then. One last stand. One last symbol. Anything other than hopeless and pointless defeat. He grabs it and begins to climb with the last of the time and strength he will ever have. He knows it is time. Time to be a martyr, just as he had always planned. Before she got in the way. But no, no time to think of that now. Time only to become something memorable. Maybe. Hopefully.

When he reaches the top, he begins to wave the flag and shout, even as the bullets fly past close enough to stir his hair. "Vive la France! Vive la révolution! Vive la République!" Despite their terrible aim, they begin to strike then. One, two, three, too many hits, too much pain to comprehend. He falls, uncertain where he will land and unable to focus enough to care. Something catches and he hangs there, painfully waiting for the end. Two more words pass through his lips, not a shout, but a whisper. The last words for himself, not for other people. "Vive…Éponine."

Then everything is dark and cold. There is nothing. He does not think of pain, the battle, guilt, or Éponine. Nothing at all. Just dark and cold.

The light did not come back for a very long time.

~Review? Yes? No? Lobster? The last chapter will come quicker that way…


	6. Waiting for Life to Begin

This is it! The big finale. I hope it's been worth the year long wait, for those who have followed this from its humble beginnings. It's certainly a light and fluffy change from the mood of the last few chapters =)

And, since I have come to the end, I would like to sincerely thank all who have followed this story and given me very motivating reviews, from those who began with me to those who just stumbled upon this after the movie. You all inspire me, and I am so very grateful.

I own nothing, blah. Reviews are love!

Chapter 6

Waiting for Life to Begin—Paris, 1985

It was a warm and lovely day. One of those early spring days when the world finally decides to come alive again just in time to rejuvenate the soul. Just the perfect sort of day for walking and thinking, which he did often as of late. He had begun to have the distinct feeling that he was waiting for…something. And this troubled him and nudged at him, driving him to distraction quite uncommon to his practical nature. This was strange, as he was, after all, a man of logic and ideals, not normally given to emotion and daydreams. His friends had started to accuse him of being smitten with something other than just his studies. But that was nonsense. What did he have to be so fond of?

These thoughts twirled round in his head as he meandered along the path on his way to class. Although it was quicker to take the direct route from his flat to the university, he always found himself wandering through the park instead. He found the city streets far too dull and impractical for letting his mind wander in this small time each day where he did not have to think about anything more important than walking. The beauty of nature called to him like no other, more so even than his beloved textbooks. The colors and scents enchanted him like a lover, his heart captured by springtime. He could not imagine anything more beautiful.

Today, however, he reflected, he probably should have avoided the park for once, as he was going to be terribly late for his class. Professor Morrisseau had already dismissed several students from class for being repeatedly late. He certainly did not want to be the next. His graduation from law school was only a few short months away. He would not allow one harsh professor to keep him from getting out and doing all the good he had planned. He wanted to change the world. He always had. He wanted to single-handedly revolutionize the Parisian justice system, and he was adamant to all of his friends that he would do it. They could laugh, but he was not just a man of strong ideals, but action as well.

Despite his lateness, he could not help but take in the beauty of his surroundings, however fleeting his chance to view them. The flowering bushes closest to the path were giving off an especially intoxicating scent today. How he wished that he had time to stop and truly take in their fresh aroma. Soon enough, he would be free to do what he liked with his time, he considered, and perhaps he would spend more time in the park then. He checked his watch again, hoping that he could beat the clock once more. When he looked back up at the path before him, something strange caught his gaze.

He walked the same path through the park every day, and he knew the surroundings well. He passed a beautiful weeping willow about half way through his trek, fully blossomed at this time of year. Today, though, he noticed something. Something he could not remember ever noticing before. Someone was sitting underneath the willow. He had often considered stopping to stay awhile in such a beautiful spot, but he had never had the time. Now he paused in his walk, considering. It was likely he would be late to class regardless. It couldn't hurt to find out who else shared his love of this spot.

Decision made, he approached the willow, parting the branches. What he saw took his very breath away. He felt as though he had reached some sort of paradise or even nirvana. A stunningly beautiful woman was sitting beneath the tree. She was a petite brunette wearing a light brown sundress that complimented her tresses. She was sitting on what looked like a trench coat and dark combat boots were sprawled on the grass beside her. She held a sketchbook and pencil on her lap. She was smiling at him shyly. Her face stirred a memory, although he could not quite place it with a when or where. He could never explain to himself why exactly he said what he said next.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, nearly whispering in an attempt to avoid disturbing the overwhelming sense of peace he felt.

Her smile widened, and she whispered back, "You."

He blinked. "But…mademoiselle…I am sure that I do not even know your name."

She laughed then, a musical sound. His breath caught once more. What was this woman doing to him? "I admit," she said, "It is a little odd, as I do not know your name either. Mine is Émilie."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he said, noticing the pretty blush his words brought to her cheeks. "I am André, at your service. Now tell me, how is it that you came to be waiting for me?"

"Please, have a seat. It is a bit of a tale," she asked. He considered the time once more, before giving up on the idea of making it to class promptly. He had a feeling that an opportunity like this was not one to be missed. He sprawled out next to her on the grass, brushing some stray dirt off of his trousers, and then turned attentively to face her.

"Alright then," she said with a smile, "Here's an odd case for such a brilliant law student. I know your friend Marceau Piermont well. We have been friends for some time now. It's silly, but I even fancied him a bit before Charlotte came along. You probably do not remember my face, but I have seen you at the local café from time to time."

In any case, my art teacher recently assigned us to draw the same thing every day for a month. I remembered this spot from my many walks and decided to draw the tranquil world I could see from it. Part way through my drawing the first day, you walked by. Recognizing your handsome face, I couldn't help but be tempted to add you to it. Every day since, to my pleasure, you have passed again and have been added to my portrait. I admit I've spent much time wondering if you might notice me…and what I might do if you did."

"And…what will you do now that you have your muse in your grasp?" he asked, hoping that he might already know the answer.

"I think I will ask him if he is daring enough to skip class for once and take a poor, simple artist out for coffee," she said, simply. "Perhaps I will even request the chance to draw him up close."

He felt something flutter in his chest, something he had never felt before. He could not believe this was happening so fast. It was as if fate had meant this to occur, if he was foolish enough to believe in such a thing. He stood quickly, feeling quite giddy, and held out his hand to her. "I think he would like nothing better," he said as she accepted his assistance, gratefully, taking her trench coat and boots with her.

"You know, it's funny," she said, as he parted the willow branches, "I feel as though I have waited much longer than I have for you to notice me. As if two hundred years have passed, rather than two weeks. Silly, isn't it?" He looked at her then, taking in the way the sun reflected off her freckled face. How could he have ever overlooked such a beauty, especially one lurking right on the very fringes of his life?

"Well, your waiting is over now, my dear, and so is mine. Come, I feel we have much to catch up on," he said, taking her hand as he led her down the path.

The path that led away from the tree where she had waited for him. The path that led him and his beggar bride onwards into a brighter future, one with far less grief, sorrow, and pain than the last. And he did, one day, marry the night, but only after a long courtship full of all the stories they had concocted in a game of pretend.

And so it was that a love too strong to die lived again. And so it was that Enjolras and Éponine found each other at last.

Fin

Reviews? I have a few more ideas for les miz stories (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), and knowing your thoughts on this may make them appear more quickly! =)


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